


Just a Jaff, Picking some Flowers

by orphan_account



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Clairvoyant, Witch!jafar, Witches, fem!jafar, no beta as usual, some depictions of blood/violence, werewolf Fanalis things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ja’far was having a great day picking flowers for a certain ‘potion’ but it all goes horribly wrong when she crashes into two beasts.
Kudos: 8





	Just a Jaff, Picking some Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another one of these drug trips. Okay no, but this oneshot is kinda odd, in a sense, with werewolves, witches, magic and other stuff. I hope you enjoy.

The life as a clairvoyant wasn’t easy if you were discovered. Any form of magic was hunted down, enslaved, or exterminated. Murder was the only way the non-magic users in this world knew how to act towards those with magic powers. 

It was sick.

Ja’far had seen many of her friends turn into ash, burned at stakes. Powerful magicians with respect for the art, everyone of them dead, squished like bugs under the nobility’s greasy fingers, their bodies thrown away like trash, something lowly and filthy. 

Every day she felt the hate grow, it had been a small seed once, planted and then watered as the time went by, and soon it would be in full bloom. A blood red flower, matching the one in her hand.

The field she was kneeling in was truly their saviours work, every plant that had grown from the fertile soil was a work of art painted by a most talented artist, the colours were warm, surrounding her with their fiery glow as the slowly disappearing sunlight touched the large petals.

She saw the clouds colour red and orange from the sunset, and cut off yet another flower from its home, putting it in the basket next to hair, nestled in a tuft of grass. She didn’t necessarily favour flowers over anything else. They were pretty, but to much use they weren’t. But she liked plants that could help her in the upcoming missions.

Having been working as an assassin for many years she had learned to master the art of toxins, and the plants tucked into the basket were of a spectacular degree, not by them self though.

Mixed with a few bases she had brewing at home they could make quite the poison, and it would help when taking down her next victim.

The energetic feeling she got from it all was refreshing, maybe she should listen to Yamraiha more often, as the advice of spending a day in the forest did cheer her up more than she had thought it would.

Though, the warm feeling was quickly put out like a match thrown into the sea, or a stomped out cigar. She pulled on the button up shirt she wore, out of habit mostly, and taking the basket in one hand she stares at the town, the towering castle and the small wooden houses, packed together like scared sheep, waiting for a wolf to come out and grab them by their bared throats.

The scoff that rang out was too loud for her liking, but it really was like prey trying to desperately avoid a predator.

At least the people were avoiding one.

She had never harmed someone using magic on purpose, no, she fancied her blades for that, but she had a spell lingering at the tip of her tongue, waiting to be cast and used, but it was a matter of defense, as the predator waiting in the long shadows couldn’t be hurt by magic, based on the stories she had been told.

She was a mere magician, not enough on magic power to challenge a Magi per se, but she was still extraordinarily good at the craft. Clairvoyance was a talent she had been gifted at birth by their creator, there weren’t many that had been given talents outside of magic, but a few still did, the ability to talk to animals, or to see the future play out, to challenge death head on or to see the flow of the rukh, the golden strings that tied together past with present and future, to be able to see those were different from clairvoyancy in which you simply saw the future, the actions and thoughts but not the rukh itself. The worst was that she didn’t know _when_ something would happen, she just knew _what._

The man that possessed the ability of hearing the calls of the rukh, a singularity in his prime, a man that she longed to meet again. After all, she still had to taste his blood upon her tongue.

She had gotten lost in her musing, and hadn’t noticed the shift of the winds, turning from breezes to howls, making the tree crowns shake violently.

She swore under her breath, speeding up as she hurried to the gate, if she would come too late then she didn’t know what woul- actually she did, and the flashes of red glued themselves to her conscious mind, sharp fangs covered in blood, and excruciating pain.

Her feet stopped, not from being exhausted, no, from the sheer bone chilling howl that tore through the air.

The fangs that she had seen flashing by had been large, and the curve and look of it had told her one thing.

Fanalis.

The race of beasts, beasts of strength and war, fights and death. Pure brutes, with the fur covering them red enough to reflect a sea of blood, almost as to show the massacres they’ve caused.

She shouldn’t be one to cower in the face of death, but to be torn apart, limb by limb by a large lion like beast was nothing she desired.

She found the energy to move when she saw a shadowy shape, stalking around at the edge of the woods, a glint of red catching her eyes. She damned herself, cursed herself out when she remembered that a Fanalis never hunts alone, having been caught many times by that mistake, and the basket hit the ground before she threw herself into a sprint, the wind pushing against her forcefully, making her almost fly forward. Her eyes through the blurry haze could see the warm light of the torches, the gate was too far, too far away from her reach when she heard the thunderous roar that pierced her body.

The paws that pushed her down were larger than her own head, the weight crushing her body under it, and her lungs strained to get air as she gasped, trying to move out from it by instinct but failing miserably. Despite that the unfathomable strength holding her down frightened her more. She had nowhere to move, and the slow rumbling growl above her coupled with the aching stench and the drops of drool that landed next to her face as the beast sniffed her, it’s wet nose running over her skin as it opened its maw.

“Masrur!”

The growl got quiet, and the weight shifted above her. Suddenly the burden on her body was lifted, and despite it the heat stayed, and she found two front paws being placed in front of her face.

Ja’far didn’t dare look up, as she knew she would be faced with the beasts furry abdomen, and possibly claws buried deep in her eyes. The flashing in her mind was still red, nothing more, but she was quickly pulled towards something else when the beast began to _speak._

“Mu.”

Her eyes were still fastened to the grass she laid on, but she could feel the shift when yet another beast appeared.

The ragged voices that were beasts possessed sounded powerful, despite the unevenness probably coming from the fact that they were speaking a human language in those forms. Yet, when she heard the voices she felt powerless, drowning in the sound as they continued.

“You vanish and I find you pinning down a human girl? You _know_ I ordered to not hunt anything or anyone during this search.” 

Instead of paws, two feet was what she could see, and neatly down trousers that covered muscular legs.

“I know...I don’t know why I attacked her.”

“Let go off her then.”

Ja’far could hear the tired disappointment in the now human morphed beast, and soon it wasn’t a beast morph thats was pressing her down, but a large man. Ja’far had never been of a very large or tall stature, but the man that was holding her down certainly was, and she gulped, realising that she still didn’t have any openings. With the beast morph it had been impossible, and it seemed as if it still was.

“I…” The man above her ran a hand up her slender neck, and after securing a strong grip around her chin he forced her up, making her meet his eyes.

Fear struck her again, something she was tired of.

They weren’t the eyes of a human, despite the morph being it. They were a predator’s eyes, sharp and calculating, they stared into her with a hidden ferocity. She barely processed any other features of the man’s face.

 _“Masrur!”_

“I’ll get off her..” the man (Masrur?) seemed to sulk as he pulled himself up and off Ja’far, letting her draw in a breath of fresh air without the stench burning her nose.

A hand pulled on Ja’far’s collar, bringing her up in the air, going from being pressed flat to the ground to hanging in the air was disorienting, but when she managed to process her surroundings she felt more shocked than anything.

Going from picking flowers to being pinned to the ground by a Fanalis hadn't been one her to do list, but that had been more pleasant than having a man carry her by the collar, squinting in the dark to see her, and he scrutinised her, before putting her back onto the ground, making her stumble in her steps before regaining footing.

“I’m very sorry about this, miss.” The other man said, he had long red hair cascading over his broad shoulders, and a gentle smile that decorated his face.

It took Ja’far a moment to find her voice. She had been through stranger things to be fair, but it had been a few years since the constant shocks and strange appearances, travelling with Sinbad usually caused it, but now that she wasn’t she had to reel back from the shock. “...mhm.” It was a start.

“We won’t hurt you, I promise! We’ll both leave, and you can go home, okay?” The long haired man smiled wider, taking a grip around Masrur’s arm, looking silly as he dragged the larger man behind him, and in a surprising haste they were gone, and Ja’far stared in silence at the spots they had stood at.

Mumbling a spell to herself a small flame appeared in the palm of her hand, lighting up the grass and forest around her.

She found her basket, the contents spilled out on the ground and thrown about in the wind, but she ignored, picking it up and hurrying to get inside the town walls, despite the guards having already closed it. Was no use being a magician if you did use magic, right?

The flame vanished, and instead a circle of crimson light appeared around her where she stood, circles and lines connected shapes with each other inside it, a warmth spread throughout her body, the power glowing and spreading throughout her, and the next second she found herself cramped into an alley, and not in the free fields. She sighed, feeling no presences around her, and hurrying she found herself outside of her door, waking inside she heard the comforting noises of Yamraiha scribbling down spells of an overused scroll, and she put the basket down, sitting down on a chair, letting her head fall into her hands.

Today had been too unpredictable.


End file.
